


Changing Categories

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over time Molly has gone from being an acquaintance of John’s to being someone he wants a more than friendly relationship with, but unfortunately she’s still hung up on Sherlock so he pushes her away. But an evening where Molly gets caught in the rain does quite a bit to convince him that maybe he’s mistaken about who she really fancies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Categories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melody1987](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/gifts).



> So a friend of mine, **melody1987** , ships one of the more rare pairs in the Sherlock fandom and asked if I could write a John/Molly fic revolving around their first kiss. It's been a long time since I'd written this pairing but I had a lot of fun with it. This is set between "A Scandal In Belgravia" and "The Hound of Baskerville" if you want to get an idea of the timeline.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d started thinking about her in a rather more than friendly way. It wasn’t anything immediate; he’d been friendly with Molly since the first time he’d gone to the morgue with Sherlock and been introduced to her. She’d been very nice, very warm. She’d given him a pleasant smile but it was quite obvious she’d only had eyes for Sherlock. He’d seen it, plain on her face. And so, in his mind, he’d sorted her as “possible friend.”

He saw a lot of her, as time went on. He could tell Sherlock liked her, in some sort of way. He tolerated her, at the very least, he supposed. Molly was the one he preferred to deal with, even if she hadn’t been the one to autopsy the body. Since she ran the department it was easy enough for her to come in and give him results, or make sure he got the body parts he needed that littered their refrigerator, or that there was a John Doe waiting for him should he need it. She treated Sherlock especially well. But she treated him nicely as well, too, so that was nice. After a few weeks, in his mind, she moved into the “definite friend” category.

Soon she began to ask him for a drink at the pub, or to catch a bite with her. She usually said it was to offer a friendly ear; she’d dealt with Sherlock before and even though she was nice to him she could understand how frustrating it could be. So he took advantage of it. It was nice to have someone who knew what it was like to deal with Sherlock to vent to. Maybe she didn’t understand _exactly_ ; she didn’t live with the man, after all, and he wasn’t invading every inch of her life it seemed, but she understood a bit. And he had to admit, it was nice to get to know her a bit better as well. The more they talked, the more he got to like her as a person. The more she slowly moved towards the “one of my closest mates” category in his mind.

And then one day he’d gone into the path lab with Sherlock and looked at her, really _looked_ at her, and suddenly saw her in a new light. She had her hair pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck and he had to clamp down on the urge to see if the skin there was soft. He wanted to press a kiss there, he realized, there and other places. He looked at her and realized he wanted her to smile at him with the same smile she gave Sherlock, have the same brightness in her eyes that she had when he was around, to view him the way she viewed the man she _really_ fancied.

The way she doubted he would ever view him.

After that he stopped going with Sherlock to St. Bart’s if he could help it. He politely turned down invitations to lunch or to drinks at the pub. He eased himself out of her life so he didn’t have to watch her fawn over Sherlock, didn’t have to see her when she clearly wanted someone else. It made his life all the more miserable, he supposed, but there were other women. A whole city full of them, in fact. He’d find someone else to focus his attention on soon enough.

He hadn’t thought much of it until the evening of the storm. It was the worst London had seen in quite some time, and when Sherlock was called out to a case he said, perhaps, John should stay since he was a bit under the weather. He’d tried to protest, saying he was fine, but Sherlock insisted, remarking that was what he’d told Molly when she’d asked if he wanted lunch that afternoon. He hadn’t realized she was talking to Sherlock about things, or that Sherlock was listening. That could pose some problems, he supposed. But in the end he hunkered down in the flat, vaguely listening to pop hits on the radio while he looked over paperwork from the clinic that he wasn’t supposed to bring home but had anyway.

The knock at the door surprised him. Who in their right mind would be out in weather like this? He got up and went to the door, opening it and seeing Molly standing there, soaked to the bone, broken umbrella in one hand, plastic sack in another. His eyes went wide. “Molly! What are you doing here?”

“I…I don’t live far…I thought I’d…bring soup,” she said, her teeth chattering as she held up the bag. “Since…since you were ill.”

He shook his head. “Come in before _you_ get ill,” he said. He moved out of the way and she came into the foyer. She was absolutely drenched, he realized. “Let’s get you to the loo and get you some towels and dry clothing. We’re about the same size and build.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Why were you out in this weather?” he asked, shaking his head.

“I thought you could use the company,” she said as they made their way to the loo. “Sherlock…Sherlock said you were here alone and I thought you might want some soup. I want soup when I’m ill.”

He sighed. Of _course_ Sherlock was involved in all this. “I’m not really ill,” he said quietly. “I was…avoiding you, I guess.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, stopping in her tracks and looking down. Water dripped from her sopping wet clothes onto the floor. “Well, then I guess I should just give you the soup and head home.”

“You might as well stay and warm up,” he said. “And change into dry clothes before you get sick.”

“Why are you avoiding me, John?” she asked, looking up at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Molly, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly. “I just realized I like you in a way that you aren’t ever going to like me, and it’s easier not to be around you then it is to watch you fawn over…him.”

“You mean Sherlock?” she asked. “He and I talked, a little while back. There’s never going to be anything there. Ever. He said he appreciates my help but there is no attraction on his part and there never will be and if I was smart I would do something about the obvious attraction you have towards me.”

John’s eyes widened for a moment and then narrowed. “I’m going to kill him,” he said in a steely tone.

She giggled slightly. “Well, if he hadn’t said anything I wouldn’t have noticed, so…maybe you shouldn’t just yet,” she said. “But the more I thought about it, he more I thought it might be..nice. Trying to have a relationship with you.” She stepped closer to him. “If you do fancy me, maybe you could stop avoiding me? And we could see if there’s anything there?”

“Like, on a date?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah.” She reached over for his hand. “Or we could enjoy some takeaway tonight while I try and warm up before going back out in that weather.”

He took her hand in his. “I think I’d like that,” he said with a grin. “I think you’re going to be here a while anyway while we get your clothes dried.”

“Well, I’m sure we can make the most of it,” she said, leaning in to give him a very quick kiss. At least, he thought she intended for it to be a quick kiss, but when her lips pressed against his he wanted to keep her there, keep her close, and after a moment he could feel her melt against him, relaxing into the kiss as he kissed her back, wanting to stay close despite the fact she was dripping water all over the floor. When they did finally pull apart she looked at him with a surprised expression on her face that quickly turned into a warm smile. “I wouldn’t mind doing more of that, either.”

“I think we could arrange that,” he said with a grin before letting her go. “Let’s get you out of the clothes, though. No use in you getting sick tonight.”

“Well, unless you come over to take care of me,” she said once they started walking towards the loo again.

He grinned more widely at that. “That could be a good thing,” he said with a chuckle. She laughed as well, and he realized then that this could be the start of something quite magnificent, if he was lucky. Tonight she’d made the move into the “definitely more than mates” category in his mind and he couldn’t be happier for that.


End file.
